London Ripped
by madwomansbox
Summary: (BBC) Sherlock Holmes and John Watson solve the case of the mysterious murder of 4 unknown women. They stumble upon a modern Jack the Ripper, but could finding his identity cause more devestation for London and its citizens? Some Johnlock. Takes place in the world of BBC's Sherlock before the Fall. Not related to Jim Moriarty. Rated T to be safe! Enjoy.
1. Author's Note

Author's Note:

This story takes place in the world of BBC's Sherlock, BEFORE the Reinbach falls. It is only a little gory in the beginning, but I will keep it down to a minimum. And their WILL be some Johnlock in this story! Fair Warning: This is my first fanfiction, so it might end up really bad! And if you don't like this story, I will be working on a lighter fan-fic in the future. If you like my writing style and want to request a story, PM me. Constructive Criticism is totally and utterly welcome, I enjoy finding out how to improve my writing. Thanks a lot for tuning in, I will try to update this every one or two days depending if I have other stories going (again, comment/PM/email if you would like a lighter story too) It is a work in progress so I will work to update it every one or two days. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

The little TV that was newly situated on top of the fireplace was turned up way too loud for 6 in the morning, seeing it was the thing that woke John up. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, and then threw off his thick covers to see what Sherlock was up to now. After he found his way to the living room, he noticed Sherlock seated in his usual worn arm-chair watching - or more like, listening - to the news with his eyes closed and his hands under his chin.

"What are you watching?" John asked in a scratchy voice, and he dropped down in the arm-chair opposite of Sherlock.

"The news, John, I thought it was obvious." He replied, not bothering to open his eyes nor move from his position.

"I know that, I'm asking you what the news is about." John sighed, and decided not to question him further and just looked up at the tiny screen himself.

"Murder, John. 4 of them, to be exact, Lestrade wanted us to go and check the bodies." Sherlock said, answering John's question and reading his mind.

"Well, why are you here still?"

"I was waiting for you. But, now that you are finally awake we can leave. Come John!" Sherlock called, immediately hopping out of his arm chair and running out the door.

"But I'm not dressed!" John yelled back, crossing his arms.

"Hurry up, I'll be waiting at the morgue!" Sherlock replied, and as his shoes clicked down the stairs his voice gradually disappeared.

John scrambled to get dressed, but by the time he had finally caught a cab and arrived at the doorstep of St. Bartholomew's Hospital he was already 20 minutes late. Everything seemed to be moving a little too fast for him this morning. John sped-walked down to the morgue where he immediately burst open the doors. He slowed down a little as he walked in and scanned the room for Sherlock, but he he noticed the rest of the station's worried and anxious faces first. Inspector Greg Lestrade was seated in a metal chair with his laptop situated on his legs, and his fingers flying as he furiously typed. Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan was pacing in the corner with her mobile to her ear, talking quietly into the mouthpiece. And Philip Anderson was doing what he did best - NoThInG.

Anderson was simply standing bent against a large window that lead to another room, with a horrible look of loath and disgust on his face. John walked swiftly over to where he was standing and looked in too. Sherlock was inside a small, grey room with four bodies surrounding him. He was bent over inspecting one of the cadavers which was lying face down on a long metal cart, just like the others. John watched Sherlock for a moment, and he saw Sherlock pause and look up. He looked out towards the window, and seeing John, waved for him to come in before digging back into his work.

John pushed open the heavy metal door that led to the cadavers, and walked to the closest one. The first thing he noticed was that they were all female, with a similar thin cut in the back of their neck. Upon further inspection, John noticed that their was big bruises next to the scar, leading him to believe these women were strangled.

"All these women were..."

"Strangled. Yes, I know. And all of them were placed on the ground with their heads to the left. Their necks where slit with the killer to the right, cutting the left, allowing him to get away with the least amount of blood exposition."

John stopped for a moment and looked at Sherlock. He never failed to amaze him. He didn't even bother to ask how it did anymore, John was too used to Sherlock being correct about his observations just by a glance.

"And, look here." Sherlock beckoned John to come over, and handed him a pair of rubber gloves like the ones he was already wearing.

He flipped the body he was previously observing, and John took a double-take. The whole stomach was open, and it seemed to be cut with extreme precision. The kidney was gone completely from the body. The rim of the cut was coated in browning-blood, the whole scene quite grotesque. John looked up for a moment, and he sensed Sherlock flipping the body back over.

"The murder used extreme-precision to cut out the kidney, and in the other cases Intestines, as a "Trophy". This leads me to believe, and so does Forensic, that the killer had experience with a knife and surgical experience."

John pulled off his gloves and leaned against the wall. "So, can we find out who it is? You seem to know everything about the murder already."

"No, thats the other thing on the Forensic Team. They couldn't find evidence of fingerprints, so that means he was wearing gloves or really knows what he is doing... The bodies were found in abandoned apartment rooms, all on the ground with the heads in a pool of blood that seemed to be un-touched. By untouched, I mean the blood was neat, and un-touched."

He looked thoughtful, and John could tell he hadn't figured this case out, at least not yet.

"I think that he or she may have been a doctor or nurse and obviously lives in this area."

John thought about the rest of the station, and the way they were behaving. _So no one knows yet about Sherlock's discoverys yet?_ He looked at the bodies again. They all looked like they were important, and suited for an office setting. John jumped a little when he heard the heavy door opening again, and he saw Molly Hooper, Morgue Specialist Registrar, walk in. Sherlock threw his gloves into the trash and quickly left the room, before Molly saw him. He glanced into the window as he walked past and waved to John, before walking out of sight.

"Oh...Hello, John! Where is Sherlock?" Molly asked, just missing Sherlock slipping away.

"He just left…But, I have a few questions before I leave, too."

"Okay, go ahead." Molly replied, a little disappointed but trying not to show it.

"Was there any other evidence at the scenes of the murder? It might help us to find out who did it."

Molly nodded and walked over to a metal cabinet on the wall and pulled out a large plastic bag with a few drenched pieces of paper. She pulled on plastic disposable gloves and gently pulled the paper out, laying it on an empty rack.

"We found these letters with each of the bodies, in the coat pockets or bags or even just under or next to them. We checked them for fingerprints, but we couldn't find any." Molly said, crinkling her nose a little at the stank of the dried blood. "There is no signature, and all the letters have different handwriting. Whoever this killer was, he really knew what he was doing…"

John looked at the wrinkled paper and read what they said (in a curly, cursive font) outloud:

 _Dear Mr. Lestrade,_

 _I have killed the woman you were looking for. I hope you are happy now!_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Catch Me If You Can_

He looked up at Molly, still confused.

"They all say that, just with different names used in the signature. One is 'I Know Your Address", another is 'You Might Remember Me'. But that is the only letter marked specifically to Lestrade, the rest are just broadly for the station." Molly said quietley, taking a small but visible shiver.

John paused for a moment before speaking. "And, it... The letters... They say that Lestrade was looking for this woman...or all of these women. Who were these people?"

"Wouldn't Sherlock know already? He doesn't?! Well, Lestrade has no idea who these women are."

John nodded and flashed a confused expression. "Can I ask one more question?"

"Go ahead."

"When were each of these women found?"

She squinted for a moment down at her clipboard before pointing to each body. "The first body was found on Thursday, the second on Friday, the third on Saturday, and the fourth on Sunday. But the detectives couldn't come in because we had to check over the bodies before it was open to the public or loved ones to visit."

"Thanks."

Molly smiled a little and waved John goodbye, as the metal door opened once more as he exited. He pulled out a chair next to Sherlock, and began to open his mouth to speak, when he was abrubtly interrupted by something far more important.

Lestrade was putting his phone away when he made a little cough to get everyone's attention. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have an advancement in the case."


End file.
